Under Pressure
by Vishan
Summary: Five years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Professor Horace Slughorn wishes to retire as the potions professor and enlists some aid in recruiting a particular witch for the position. I don't want to give away too much. Cissamione fanfiction at Hogwarts. Rating may change later. Slow Burn.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note - I fell in love with the Hermione/Narcissa pairing so here I am trying to do them justice. I don't want to give much away but for set up, this is 5 years after the Battle of Hogwarts and there will definitely be AU parts to the story. The first few chapters are going to be set up to get a sense for my writing and how my universe is the same/different from canon. I do hope you enjoy.

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Piercing green eyes looked through the tall, locked, gates of Malfoy Manor after she and her companion apparated here. Slowly fingers curled around metal, squeezing it tightly as if she were a prisoner. She blinked several times as a few splashes from clouds above hit her face, not bothering to cast a charm to let the water fall around her. It fit her mood, coming here as a courtesy for a highly respected wizard. Glancing upwards, dark clouds rolled overhead, casting a deeper sense of intent over the estate, the light slowly dimming as the prelude to storm was about to shift into downpour.

"Come now, Nikole. We mustn't dally with this weather!"

Professor Slughorn shambled up to his companion, voice heavy with concern. "Good heavens! You're already damp from the rain."

Nikole Astrum slowly shifted her gaze up towards him, offering a hint of a smile through the wavy brown strands of hair that were caught between wet and dry. "It's fine. I like the rain."

A half truth that she gave her colleague who long since cast the charm to remain dry upon apparating on the grounds. He shook his head, thrusting a stern finger towards her.

"We're supposed to make an impression here. That won't work if you're all wet!"

With a shrug, she finally let go of the bars as a gust billowed out the maroon robes around her - the grey suit underneath no longer protected from the elements. "You've already made several impressions here. To no avail. And quite dry I might add."

"Which is why this visit is crucial! If it doesn't work I'm going to postpone my retirement yet again!"

Slughorn had been threatening that for years now, but it was always a song and dance that he did with Headmistress McGonagall that surmounted to nothing. Except he had taken on a potion apprentice two years prior by the name of Gena Baldo making good on his threats. She was brilliant and looked up to the potions professor, playing him along with compliments and doing whatever was asked of her. No errand was too small - from fetching ingredients at Hogsmeade, corresponding with Slugs and Jiggers Apothecary by owl with other needs not met on grounds, and grading every inch of parchment for essays and exams for all the students. Which she did quite fair and well, leaving Slughorn to simply teach - the part of the job he loved, next to courting high profile students, of course.

Until a practical lesson that Gena was leading turned chaotic. A second year student, whose identity was still unknown at this time, switched out the lavender sprigs bottle for a bottle of hemlock. Without paying attention to the white powdery substance that she poured out, something she should have known instinctively was incorrect by feel, tossed it into her cauldron causing its contents to explode. The thick, noxious, substance splattered all over Apprentice Baldo and the students in the first row, immediately burning robes and blistering skin! Madam Pomprey was beside herself with such a careless act as her infirmary was filled with injuries from the incident so close to the end of term.

Embarrassed, Baldo handed in her resignation. Slughorn was unable to convince anyone to take the position after word spread like fiendfyre of what happened. This year was much the same. Either under qualified witches and wizards applied, or qualified ones declined. His list of names were growing thin until McGonagall offered another suggestion, but Horace was met with resistance with this particular witch. Having Nikole here was his last attempt to sway his prospect before asking the Headmistress for help. He preferred courting his replacement himself. Or _mostly_ himself, this time.

He brought out his wand, tapped at the gate, and watched it open with invitation. Horace tucked his wand away inside his inner jacket pocket and shifted, offering an extension of his arm towards Nikole. She quietly snorted before taking a step forward. Halfway up the path, Nikole finally spoke up with what was weighing on her mind.

"For all you know, me being at the school is part of the problem."

"Oh I doubt that." He puffed out as he kept pace. "She's stubborn is all."

That quirked a brow. "Proud is a better word."

Horace chuckled as they climbed the few steps to the main door. "Same thing really. Though I suspect she'd like your description better."

He leaned closer to her, lowering his voice. "I know this is difficult but please … whatever you can …?"

Her guarded eyes softened to fondness as she clasped Horace's shoulder with a wet hand. "I know how much it means for you to retire. I'll do my best. Promise."

His eyes squinted as he smiled, reaching up to pat her hand affectionately. The last war left a mark on Horace if one knew to look for it. Outwardly he was the same old Slughorn - compassionate potions teacher, coveting high profile students into his club to gain glory through them. The act was quite brilliant, but you could hear the subtle fatigue in his voice. The passion had diminished and he was just going through the motions at Hogwarts. He needed to properly grieve away from school and enjoy life. For that, she was willing to meet the mistress of the manor despite their complicated history and how uncomfortable she was feeling now. She owed it to her old teacher, friend, and fellow professor to set aside all that.

That was when the door swung open. Horace dropped his hand and stretched his arms out in greeting to the young man on the other side, baffled why Slughorn was here yet again.

"You're a glutton for punishment Professor," said Draco as he accepted the hug. "Mother's not going to change her mind."

The handful of years that have passed since the war had helped bring back Draco's countenance, no longer sickeningly gaunt and slate eyes haunted, there was life behind those orbs and a smile that actually reached them. Nikole noted that and how he was looking even more like his father, especially as he grew out his hair. His presence reminded her of his mother, however. Or at least what she had previously known of his mother. They hadn't spoken since graduation, being on separate sides of ideals, expectations and war.

"Well, even if so, it's always good to visit. Oh! My manners." He stepped aside, a hand still tucked around Draco's elbow as he dispense with the introductions. "May I introduced Professor Nikole Astrum. Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!"

Despite her hesitations in being here, she was genuinely delighted to meet Draco under happier circumstances and thrust out her hand. "A pleasure."

He accepted her hand and firmly shook it. "Likewise. It's an honor to meet the teacher that broke the curse on the position after all."

She chuckled at that as they withdrew hands. "Five years and going strong. And hopefully for a few more."

"Hopefully, hm? Please," he welcomed the pair to enter. "Come inside and warm up. Bloody weather's changing fast. Weren't supposed to have rain today."

"Thank you my boy!"

Horace followed in quickly as Nikole finally cast a charm to dry herself off before stepping inside. She didn't want to track footprints through the home. The idea _was_ to make a good impression. A fact she couldn't argue.

Draco lead them through the foyer, the large crystal chandelier hanging resplendent above them, candles currently extinguished. They were surrounded by centuries old opulence and magic. It sent a shiver down Nikole's back, knowing what happened here. She could feel the dark history radiating through her bones, bringing back the conversation she had with Hermione on what had happened here. What had happened to her.

Nikole scowled, remembering what details the girl had shared as Horace and Draco chatted.

"Mother said you went to school together."

Draco's question startled her out of her thoughts but outwardly remained calm. She was curious as to when Draco learned that bit of information. "We did. We were actually partners in Horace's class throughout our time there."

He considered that as he brought them into the parlor. The curtains were tied opened but very little light came through due to the storm clouds. It was the fire that cast shadows along the walls as they walked inside. Tea and finger sandwiches were already on the table, quickly placed there by a inconspicuous house-elf.

"Funny that." Draco appraised Nikole and she noticed the beginnings of mistrust. "She never mentioned you until today. When we saw you arrive."

Horace looked delighted in his own selfish way. Draco confirmed that his mother was home! He was going out on a limb with the unannounced visit so this was perfect. That good mood quickly deteriorated as he saw Draco and Nikole straighten their posture in a standoff on either side of the dining table.

"And good students at that!" interjected Horace, trying to diffuse the tension. "Difficult to decide who had the brightest talent for potion making I say."

With a sigh, she brought her hands up to clasp the back of the chair before her. "Thank you, Horace. That's … that's kind."

The hard mask of control she wore slowly chipped away and gave the only Malfoy heir a half smile. "And Draco? I'm sure there's plenty of things you don't want to talk about during your time at Hogwarts, hm?"

Draco reluctantly agreed with a curt nod. "You'd be right."

"Think of it like that."

"Yes Draco. You know it's impolite to press others for answers that they're not ready to give."

Narcissa had entered quietly behind Nikole, cutting off her son's attempt at rebuttal. Something unspoken passed between mother and son and she'd bet a knut that Draco was pressing for answers moments before he greeted the professors at the door.

"You're right mother." Draco offered a genuine smile, though Nikole could see unspoken questions burning brightly in his eyes. "Apologies Professor Astrum."

"Please," she smiled thinly, as Draco began to take his leave. She could feel Narcissa's icy gaze watching them closely. "Nikole's just fine."

Horace just watched quietly, feeling the air growing a few degrees chillier than before.

"Nikole then." He paused close to her and offered some quiet advice between them. "And speaking of pressuring? Don't with my mother. If she wanted to accept the position, she would have done so already."

He pulled back with a fake smile. "Enjoy your time here."

His face was more honest when he said his goodbye to Slughorn, promising a proper time to catch up. He kissed his mother on the cheek and cast a wary look Nikole's way one last time before disappearing.

It didn't lessen the tension in the air and it didn't help that the two witches had yet to speak to one another, despite regarding the other's presence. Nikole knew she should turn around and start off with the pleasantries, seeing as she was asked here for that purpose, but Slughorn was one step ahead.

"Ms. Black!" He gleefully announced before going to see her. "I was hoping you'd be home!"

"I'm sure you were," she said with amusement as he took her hand gently. "And really, Horace? Bringing the cavalry here to sway me?"

If Narcissa was anything other than a proper pureblood lady, Nikole would have heard a derisive snort.

"Well, if I'm one thing it's persistent!" he countered.

It took all of Nikole's willpower to not shake her head in exasperation. "If it helps any, he pestered me quite a bit too. But then reminded me of a favor I owed him. And some things don't change with me."

She turned around and looked right at her, throwing her a bright smile that was so fake. A Slytherin she was not, but her intentions were not to be deceitful at all. Narcissa knew why there were here. Nikole was trying very hard to be brave with social awkwardness of a decades long disconnect with a woman she had once admired.

 _Still admired_ , she cautioned herself. Narcissa had lied to save Harry Potter from Voldemort, bringing back old feelings from their younger days of the teenager she once knew.

Narcissa's icy visage didn't have the tiniest of fractures for Nikole, or Horace either, of what was going on inside her mind. She merely regarded the younger professor with a perfectly sculpted brow raising with polite interest. "Yes. Loyal to a fault you always were."

Lady Black held up her hand, silencing Nikole's next words as easily as she had done her son earlier. Nikole snapped her mouth closed, eyes stung by that and knew exactly where things stood between them.

"Let us sit and discuss your reasoning as to why I should become the potions professor at Hogwarts," she challenged and gracefully took her seat across from Nikole.

The white porcelain teapot hovered off the tray and began to pour for the three of them, all the while Narcissa's blue eyes remained fixed on the green ones across from her. "Though I dare say, Nikky, you'll be hard pressed to change my mind."

Then it appeared - the old glimmer of friendly rivalry they once had sparkling in Narcissa's eyes. Everything changed in that moment for the two of them.

Like the Hufflepuff she was, Nikole's heart lay bare upon her sleeve as she heard her old nickname. She was wrong in her assumptions and Narcissa played her soundly. Lady Black was very curious to see her and freely opened communication between them.

Nikole pulled out her chair and took a seat, nowhere near as graceful as her hostess, and leaned forward with joy as the teacups floated before each of them. "Well, Cissa, I don't plan on changing your mind."

She felt comfortable quipping back the old nickname back, to which a small chink in Narcissa's armor chipped away and a pure smile etched forth. "You don't?"

"Nope." Nikole sipped her tea, smirking behind the cup, trusting her instincts.

Horace finally broke his silence and plopped down on the chair. "Merlin's Beard, _no?!_ B-b-but… I … I …. I brought you along to help convince her! Not side with her!"

The younger professor chuckled knowingly as she set down her cup. "But I do want to side with her."

"But?!"

Green eyes held a glint in her eyes only for Narcissa, one that the blonde witch recognized after all this time. Nikole knew that Narcissa was going to take the position and it was just a matter of how long should they toy with Horace for old times sake. It also confirmed that Nikole was initially part of Narcissa's reasonings in declining the position, along with her family's status during the second war with her husband and sister. How the home she was being entertained in was used as Voldemort's base of operations.

Yet there was another reason, or person, for that matter that gave Narcissa pause in accepting a teaching position at Hogwarts. A certain Transfiguration Professor that was one third of the Golden Trio who had been brutally tortured here by Bellatrix Lestrange, the oldest of the Black sisters.

For now, their banter was enough, flustering Slughorn into believing he wasn't going to be able to retire.

"You promised, Nikole! You promised me outside you'd help convince her!" he pleaded.

And to that, the two witches quietly locked eyes before laughing deviously together like old times.


	2. Chapter 2

An orange tail flicked back and forth against the floor as the well-known half-kneazle watched his owner go through lesson plans, hastily scribbling in the margins with improvements for her second year teaching at Hogwarts as the Transfiguration professor. It was Hermione's routine since summer break had started and it was becoming a boring one for Crookshanks. He watched her wake up, methodically go through her morning routine, scurry down to the Great Hall for breakfast with the rest of staff, and then scurry just as quickly back to fuss over parchment and books when mandatory meetings didn't occupy the brightest witch of her age. She was determined to improve upon the lessons handed down to her from McGonagall, continuing to adapt them into her burgeoning style.

Bored with the monotonous routine and random pets that were administered when Crookshanks happened to be nearby, he hopped onto the unkempt desk, sliding unused rolls of parchment down to the floor to make his presence known.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione's flailing hands managed to slide the bottle of ink out of the way before her animal companion purposefully attempted to sabotage her work with a flick of his tail. "You need to move. Now please. You know I need to finish these today."

It was mid-July and Hermione had set a hard deadline on completing lesson plans by now so she could shift her interests back to research. Specifically returning to the extensive mathematical charts she calculated that were used to predict the successful removal of curses placed upon artifacts collected from Death Eaters after the war. Draco had been instrumental in cataloging them in conjunction with Curse-Breakers from the Ministry, but the removal of the dark magic that had been infused by the Dark Lord, and his followers, had been challenging - many of the artifacts were still interlaced with powerful curses. She was fascinated by this development when she was still at the Ministry working under the Department for Regulation for Magical Creatures, sometimes stretched between her work there and with the Office for the Removal of Curses, Jinxes and Hexes as a favor that Bill Weasley asked of her. Then it became a puzzle she had to solve and went full on into research mode to find the answers. After being courted into taking the position as the Transfiguration professor, Hermione's enthusiasm had not waned. She was resolute in finding the key to safely removing the dark magic from these items so they could never hurt anyone again.

Unfortunately, she had to deal with an equally resolute Crookshanks that wouldn't budge from his spot. His scrunched up face held her gaze, unfazed by the gentle tugs of the book he had planted himself on.

"I do need this. For the lessons." She scolded, not having the heart to move him from the book by hand or magic. "That I'm almost done with."

His response was a yawn, his tail swishing across the desk, sliding papers back and forth, jumbling them up.

She crossed her arms in frustration, blowing away a strand of brown hair that fell in front of her eye. "You're not going to move, are you?"

Crookshanks began to groom a paw in answer.

"Fine! I'll take a break" She slumped forward in defeat, knowing her companion wouldn't budge in this and scritched behind his ear. He purred, bumping his head into her wrist happily, eliciting a chuckle from the young witch.

Hermione smiled brightly and took a deep breath before really seeing her living area. It was a chaotic mess! There were books _everywhere._ The mess had spilled onto the coffee table with books in various disarray of open, closed, and piled up, charts rolled up leaning against the chair, crumpled up paper littered the floor, while parchment overflowed the sides of the couch.

"Oh dear. I got a bit carried away, haven't I?" she mused aloud as Crookshanks mewled his agreement.

Satisfied that his witch was on the proper track as she began to tidy up, he hopped off the desk and carefully made sure to not disturb her work any further. He trotted along the floor, weaving around the balls of parchment and slinked out the door that was slightly ajar to go exploring the castle, briefly pausing to rub up against the Headmistress' robes. He purred contently, before scampering off.

McGonagall pleasantly smiled at the half-kneazle and lightly rapped on door, causing it to softly creak as it opened just a tad more. She was surprised to see that the brightest student she ever had was up and about and not attached to her desk! Instead, Hermione was squatting on the floor with an armful of rolled up scrolls.

"Headmistress!" Even if Minerva had said many times to call her by her first name, Hermione's instinct was to address her formally even in private. "It's good to see you."

With an armful of scrolls, she looked to her kitchen. "Can I get you anything."

"Oh no, dear. I just wanted to stop by and have a little chat. Perhaps even go for a little stroll?" she offered with a perceptive smile. "Because I do believe Crookshanks had the right idea, hm? You've been locked up in here for far too long, Hermione. Time to live a little outside academic lessons and pursuits."

Her shoulders hunched together under that gaze looking sheepish. McGonagall's expression reminded Hermione of the many times she, Ron, and Harry had been caught breaking school rules and had to be reprimanded by their Head of House. This time, Hermione was glad that McGonagall was looking out for her best interests.

"Yes, I know. You're right." With a soft sigh, she gently placed everything she was holding on the couch and went to fetch her robe. "I just wanted to improve upon the lessons for the students so they can be challenged successfully, but not too much so they'll fall behind. I've learned so much the past year as to who I am as a teacher, that I wanted to incorporate my ideas immediately. While everything was fresh, you know? And I wanted to do you proud! It was a daunting task following you as the Transfiguration Professor!"

Minerva knowingly chuckled and smiled at her rambling. "You did an exceptional job. The students adore you."

"Because I'm part of the Golden Trio that took down Voldemort and saved the school," she added cheekily as they left her quarters and locked the door with wordless magic.

"Partially," corrected Minerva. "But you are also known for your brilliant mind and fairness. The students took to that too and how easily approachable you are if they needed help as an instructor. And Head of Gryffindor House."

She blushed under the praise, practically glowing as they move out of Gryffindor Tower and through the corridors heading towards the courtyard. "Thank you, Headmistress."

"Oh for the love of Merlin, Hermione! How many times must I insist you call me Minerva?" she gently chastised. "You're no longer my student and you're going into your second year as a professor here. Not only that, you're a dear friend and colleague and the most qualified person as my replacement. So _please_ , try to do me a favor and move past formalities in private?"

Minerva had this conversation in various forms throughout the year and she was hoping that this emphasized insistence would break through old habits with Hermione. Old habits that were exceptionally hard to break when Hermione held McGonagall in such high regard, but she also didn't want to keep flustering her old professor. Clearly she wanted their relationship to shift like this.

"I will make a more conscious effort, and do as you ask," she relented.

Minerva looked unconvinced. "Well, thank you."

"Of course." Hermione waited a beat before grinning. "Minerva."

"Ha!" She clapped with delight. "Thank you. Truly."

"Though if I can be plain?"

"Always, Hermione."

They walked through the shadows of the middle courtyard, peaceful without the clamoring of students between classes.

"I've a feeling that you wanted to talk about something a bit more important than how I should address you."

Minerva paused by one of the arches, gazing across the courtyard to where the classrooms were located. Hermione stilled a couple steps ahead of her.

"Yes, I did," the Headmistress admitted. "I know we had this conversation before, but nothing came of it since Horace remained the potions professor after several attempts to contact Ms. Black to be his replacement."

"Wait." Hermione stepped closer to Minerva, her voice quite animated with surprise as she began to quickly connect the dots. "She changed her mind and accepted the position?"

"Not, exactly," she admitted and turned to address Hermione fully with kindness. "Horace went to see Ms. Black one more time and took Nikole with him as a last attempt to convince her."

Minerva watched as her former charge tried to work out the connections between Nikole and Narcissa, but none were to be had if Defense Against the Dark Arts professor hadn't offered any information. The only piece of the puzzle the young woman may come to realize is that the two witches were in the same year together at Hogwarts. Minerva would offer that much to Hermione.

"You see Narcissa and Nikole were best friends during their time here."

She was amused as Hermione was rendered speechless. Not an easy feat!

"No!" the Gryffindor Head forced out.

"Oh quite so. They were as inseparable as two students could be from different Houses. But as you know, things changed rapidly towards their final years here. The two had a falling out. I have my conjectures on what happened, as there are logical assumptions that can be made, but it is not my place to gossip," she emphasized in a way that made clear to Hermione there was no debate with this. "But my gut tells me that Narcissa will be the new potions professor."

She cast a serious look at Hermione, who still couldn't hide her surprise at this revelation before a darker expression came over the young witch.

"This is why I wanted to talk with you. I know you gave your blessing to myself and Horace to speak with her ..."

"Why wouldn't I? She's more than qualified. She finished her Mastery in Potions at St. Mungo's with high marks and still continues to consult with the hospital as needed," she said stoically, not realizing she cut off Minerva due to nervousness on this subject. "And being a Slytherin, she could take over Horace's duties as Head of House as well. It all makes sense."

"And truly the last candidate to consider." The Headmistress folded her hands together in front of her and tilted her head forward just so to indicate she wasn't convinced of Hermione's acceptance of this. She proceeded with a gentle voice. "Hermione, we barely revisited this discussion since it looked as if Horace was going to remain on staff. This is more than likely changing, and I know how much of a conflict of interest this is going to be for you."

Hermione's eyes shifted away from Minerva and spoke softly. "She lied to Voldemort and saved Harry's life. Harry spoke on her behalf and she was cleared of all charges. Draco too."

She was glad that Lucius Malfoy's luck had finally run out. His crimes harbored too many between both wars and he wasn't going to be acquitted for a second time. The Wizengamot sentenced him to life at Azkaban, leaving Narcissa and Draco as heirs to the massive Malfoy Estate.

Hermione continued to have contact with Draco because of their shared work with the dark artifact research, but the young witch avoided his mother like the plague.

Minerva assessed her former charge's demeanor and could hear the words being said and not entirely with conviction. It sounded like Hermione was trying to persuade herself all over again that she was good with Horace's replacement. She needed to make sure that Narcissa taking the position was acceptable, and if not, … well, she would deal with the aftermath.

"Hermione do look at me," she coaxed gently and smiled when brown eyes dared to look at her. "She is also Bellatrix's sister and a painful reminder of what happened to you."

Minerva saw the unconscious wince and how Hermione went to rub her arm reflexively. "I need to know that you are truly alright with Narcissa's position here. You'll be working together closely as your respective Heads of Houses, in meetings, and appearances in the Great Hall. I don't want to put you under all that pressure if you don't think it will work. We'll find another solution if it makes you uncomfortable if she accepts."

"Of course, it makes me uncomfortable," admitted Hermione as she stiffly squeezed her arm. "But I need to be fair in this. Professor Slughorn desperately wants to retire and his apprentice ruined that chance by her lack of wits. No one wants to come here as potions master and he will be miserable next year as he hasn't an apprentice lined up again either. If Ms. Black wants to sign on to replace him, that decision shouldn't solely rely on me."

She finally let go of her arm to silence the Headmistress' rebuttal. "No. It really shouldn't. What happened five years ago to me isn't buried in the past. Nor will it ever be. I've got the bloody scars that prove it as my constant reminder. Let's not forget the nightmares …"

Hermione paused, brown eyes hardening with the memories, but it passed. "But if I can work with Draco, I can learn to work with his mother."

Sighing, she looked passed McGonagall into the courtyard with a look of resolution. "Harry trusts her. For that alone I can give her a chance. Prove that she has a place here. And if her work at St. Mungo's is anything to go by, that too."

Narcissa had focused her field of study on curative and restorative potions at the hospital during her internship there. A curious choice of discipline for a former Death Eater's wife. Draco also had inadvertently revealed that his mother was working on a research piece for the _Wizarding Health Journal_ last year. That had quieted her, and Draco dropped it with an apology, mistaking it for the taboo topic of his mother. The truth was far from his assumptions. Hermione was curious and stunned that Narcissa's research was good enough to qualify for respected literature. Whatever the research was, it had to be well written with sound theory to be considered. It just hadn't been published yet, and she had been keeping up with her subscription to read it when it finally came out.

Hermione found her mentor's gaze after the silence between had gone on for almost too long and could see that Minerva wasn't entirely convinced of her decision.

"I mean it." She said firmly, jutting out her chin for emphasis. "I _will_ give her a chance."

McGonagall lofted a brow to challenge even that.

" _Fine_." Hermione waved a hand in front of her in defeat. "A _guarded_ chance."

With a motherly smile, Minerva conceded. "I just had to be sure Hermione."

"When do you think you'll know if she'll officially accept?" she asked, wanting to shift the topic off her feelings on the matter since this was settled.

"I expect an owl sometime tonight and if it is as I predicted, we can announce Narcissa Black as our new potions professor by tomorrow morning."

"Well, that will be a delight to see how the _Daily Prophet_ spins that headline," she snorted as the pair began their walk again. "Want to take bets on how badly Skeeter embellishes how Hogwarts is going to allow a former dark witch on staff? You know, be fake worried about the safety of the students here."

Hermione dramatically raised her right arm and passed it in front of them as she rattled off a headline. " _Death Eater Amongst Hogwarts Staff!_ Purposefully saying that instead of Death Eater's wife or some such to cause a panic until the reader sees who is actually appointed just for sales."

McGonagall chuckled, not distressed at any of the sensationalism, and happy that Hermione was able to find some humor in the situation. "True. But I've no doubt it will all work out just fine. These things always do."

Maybe not the way one always wanted, or expected, but it would. Minerva was old enough to believe that as fact.

* * *

Updates will not be so quick as a fair warning, so surprise! I wanted to show Hermione's side of things. Still some build up before the two actually meet. Have a Happpy New Year!


	3. Chapter 3

Once Horace was able to deduced that his former students were in league with one another in teasing, his demeanour immediately uplifted and rose to properly hug their hostess with delight that she was accepting the teaching position. Narcissa decided that a celebration was in order to honor the professor's legacy and broke out a bottle of Superior Red from her personal wine stock. An hour quickly passed with Horace reminiscing, keeping the two witches entertained with stories, which eventually included them.

"And you my dear!" he raised his wine glass and curled a finger out, pointing at Narcissa. "So close in brewing that Draught of Living Death in your sixth year. Was so sure you had it!"

Nikole snickered, remembering how put out her friend was. "And she wouldn't shut up about it after class. Constantly reciting the steps, trying to figure out where she went wrong. Like that leaf personally offended her for not disintegrating."

"Well, it did offend me." She sniped playfully, gently swirling the contents of her wine glass. "I lost my opportunity to obtain a vial of Felix Felicis. That was enough cause to be crossed at failing."

"Crossed?" She laughed. "Crossed? You were so upset that throwing your book wasn't beneath you."

Narcissa pursed her lips. "Hm. That's because I was throwing it at you. Didn't count against proper manners."

"Oh good heavens, _no!_ " Horace replied, aghast at learning this. "You didn't!"

"Oh she did alright." Nikole confirmed with a wistful smile. "I did deserve it though."

"No one deserves a book thrown at them!" he screeched in disagreement.

"Well …" She awkwardly pulled her shoulders up, scrunching her neck tightly, looking quite guilty with her confession. "I was rather mocking towards her."

"Yes you were. Charming your voice to sound like mine as you exaggerated my failure down the hall? I seriously questioned the sorting hat's placement of you as a Hufflepuff that day," Narcissa asserted.

"Nikole! I never would have thought you so rude," admonished Horace.

"Oh don't think the proper princess here is innocent." She held Narcissa's gaze, daring her to deny it as she continued. "Couple mornings later she got me back. Wasn't sure why classmates were snickering and pointing at me after a bath. Not until I saw my hair turned purple in the mirror that is."

Her hair was fine when she left the Prefects' Bathroom so whatever charm Narcissa managed to use in sabotaging her was timed for maximum effect.

She leaned forward to point an accusing finger at her old friend. "You never did tell me how you managed it, Cissa."

"And I never will," she said with a haughty smirk.

Horace's eyes looked comical as he processed this new information. "Oh my word. The things we learn years later. Your vintage makes for loose lips, Narcissa. I'm half tempted to deduct points for old times sake! I'm not officially retired yet!"

The trio shared a laugh as Narcissa waved her wand, summoning parchment and ink. "A fact that I'm to remedy right now. Care for another glass as I take care of this?"

"Oh no, thank you! I've reached my limit. It's getting late as it is and one shouldn't drink and Apparate in fear of being splinched!" He pushed out his chair to stand, Nikole and Narcissa following suit.

"It truly has been a pleasure catching up, Narcissa," he said, clasping her hands before pecking her cheeks in goodbye.

"The pleasure's all mine, Horace. Just promise me you'll enjoy your retirement and not be a stranger," she asked.

His tired eyes found renewed vigor and felt his body straighten with purpose. "You can be assured I will. Be lovely to see you and Draco more often."

Her smile pure, it softened with rare uncertainty as Narcissa regarded Nikole. "Are you taking your leave as well?"

Nikole shrugged, feeling like she needed an excuse to stay. "Bottle's not empty, right?"

"Never in this home."

"Then I suppose it'd be rude for you to drink alone. Unless you rather Draco keep you company?"

"Draco keeps me company more than he should," she replied coolly. "A fact that pains me to admit, but he's a good son. And I rather we go over the letter together before I send it to the Headmistress."

Looking between the two witches, Horace was well versed in polite excuses and these two were the master at saying so little with so many words. He clearly had overstayed his welcome!

"I'll see you back at the castle, Nikole. Goodnight my dears." He saw himself out as they offered their goodnights as well, humming happily as he closed the door.

The clock above the fireplace mantel didn't have a chance to tick away once in silence as both women jumped on the chance to speak.

"Cissa, I'm so ha— " "I can't believe it — " they both began immediately.

Nikole softly hung her head down in amusement, missing the soft color that accentuated Narcissa's pale cheeks. "Perhaps you should go first?"

"Only if you'll look at me."

She briefly closed her eyes before doing as requested and studied the youngest Black sister across the table.

Narcissa's ability to conceal her emotions were legendary amongst the wizarding community. Her cold features betrayed nothing of her true intent, blue eyes focused on her surroundings to absorb fine details and catalogue gossip and fact to ensure that her family would prosper. Suggestions over dinner with Lucius were truly tiny manipulations to coax her husband into believing he came up with clever ideas that increased their already immense fortune. The beauty of using the presumptions that she was a complacent housewife amongst arrogant wizards. She was a Black afterall. Raised to bring honor to her lineage, which included accepting the arranged marriage to Lucius with dignity. She had no voice in the matter, but how she handled the situation into creating an advantageous one for her, and eventually Draco, held endless possibilities.

She was also a very attractive woman that had only grown more prominent years later, Nikole reflected. Yet she was not naive, or witless like many a man that were blinded by Narcissa's beauty, and knew since they first met that her Slytherin friend was not to be underestimated. Echoes of upheaval and plots in the shadows had forced their paths to diverged with reason years ago. Even with how easy they slipped into old ways tonight, a lot of damage created by the bigotry passed down from the Black family had not been forgotten. Narcissa could have chosen a different path like her sister Andromeda, but she was lost to familial duty. And lost to Nikole.

Narcissa could see that the fondness shared between them had abruptly shifted to discretion in Nikole's eyes. She couldn't fault the change and was equally proud and hurt by that realization.

"I'm not even sure what I was going to say. Something worded delicately in a roundabout apology probably," she admitted. "But you deserve better than that."

Nikole blinked, her bravado disappearing as eyes shifted to anything else but Narcissa as the lady of the house continued with a slight addendum. " _Everyone_ deserves better after all the pain my family has caused. You being here has at least opened my eyes that despite who I am and what I allowed, that there's a chance I can do some good in this world."

She wanted to cross the distance between them and grab onto Nikole's shoulders as she pleaded her case to see just how serious she was. Yet, a Black did not beg. Not even when they had wronged someone as deeply as the witch before her.

"Isn't that right, Nikky?" she inquired dryly, pushing back her insecurity. "Or was it all a show for Horace a bit ago? Being so warm and charming."

"Bloody hell," she muttered under her breath and rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. "Of course it wasn't a show! I was relieved when you were all cheeky with me. Least I knew where we stood to a degree, ya know?"

"And now?" Narcissa pressed quickly.

She shrugged. "I dunno. Lots happened as you said. Things will take time."

It was an honest, as much as a painful, answer that Narcissa had to accept with a yielding smile. Her crimes may have been forgiven by the courts, but she had a lifetime of atonement to make up for.

"They always do," she agreed, taking her seat once more with an air of finality that the Dark Arts professor was accustomed too.

Nikole did the same and sipped her wine, watching Narcissa pen her acceptance letter. One evening was not going to erase the years of affliction between them, despite the ease of happy company that they appreciated. Alone they were guarded and hopeful after their intense exchange. The two of them were going to be teaching together and watching over their young charges as their respective Heads of Houses. There would be plenty of time to become reacquainted and for Narcissa to earn her place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

* * *

Moonlight was obscured by the gloomy overcast over Hogwarts Castle, barely showing signs of life during the summer months. Where the torches made the castle beautifully glow during the term, they were scattered throughout the towers and halls for the teachers that made the school home. It made the grounds by the greenhouses pitchblack if not for the sconces lighting the castle walls, helping two teachers move between Greenhouse One and a repurposed wooden planter, with wand tips bright with the Lumos Charm. Large stacks of carefully tied up knotgrass floated between them.

"Aberforth _really_ needs a lot of knotgrass, Neville. Did Hagrid drink his stocks dry or something?" pointed out Hermione, knowing the groundskeeper's love of a particular mead. "Just odd he doesn't order some more of it."

She looked thoughtful. "Does he brew drinks in the back now?"

"I've haven't a clue," chuckled the Herbology professor. "I just try to not ask too many questions with him. Safer that way."

His companion chuckled in agreement. The Hog's Head Owner was just as terse and grumpy as ever, and it wasn't like knotgrass was anything dangerous. Unless you were making Polyjuice Potion, which was a preposterous thought! She banished that idea, claiming personal paranoia with that potion years back with the forms she had to take, and released the magic holding the bundles. The pair watched them drop into the wood box.

Neville took over and with a small flick of his wrist, waved his wand. _"Locomotor Planter."_

The large box hovered off the ground in waiting as he looked quite cheerily towards Hermione. "Glad you could come along, Hermione. Nice seeing you out and about."

"Thanks, Neville," said the witch brightly. "I get so focused on problems that I forget that there's a world outside my office. So here I am, walking to Hogsmeade with you. Trying _very_ hard to not think about all the work I've put off today."

They shared a laugh together, both knowing that Hermione's was always anticipating what work needed her attention. Neville began leading the way off the greenhouse grounds and through the nearest gate to the well used path that led them wizarding village. They debated on heading to the Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer after the delivery when the shadow of an owl in the night sky caught their eye.

Hermione's gaze darkened, knowing who's owl that probably was, but Neville missed it and continued their conversation. It was all one sided as Hermione bristled with what had to be confirmation of Narcissa Black's acceptance. Her thoughts went back to the conversation she had with Minerva earlier today and began to sift through her emotions of outrage then belief that even someone like Ms. Black deserved a second chance.

After a few moments, Neville realized he was talking to himself. "Hey?" He gently elbowed his fellow professor in the arm with concern. "You alright?"

"Oh! Yes, of course, Neville." She flashed him a brilliant smile that spoke volumes of her trying too hard. "Got stuck going over my to-do list in my head."

He cast a dubious glance her way. "You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

No, she wasn't, but this wasn't the time for that conversation. Instead she leaned against him and slipped an arm around his. "Now let's finish up this little errand so we can get that drink."


	4. Chapter 4

On the coast of Fetlar in the Shetland Islands, two disheveled figures appeared at the apparition point outside a centuries old Viking tower that had long outlived its original purpose. The lightning storm cracked louder than the sound of their arrival and frothy waves rolled quickly to shore from winds ripping over the water off the coast. Not that they really needed such cover to avoid being seen. The island held a sparse population and the nearest settlement was miles to the south. Not many tourists would travel this far north of the main town of Houbie during a storm just to see old stone walls and towers.

The two wizards groused about the weather as they sloshed through the slippery grass towards the structure.

"Bloody weather," said the first, a flash of lightning revealing his gaunt face and sunken, exhausted eyes. "Everyone's 'ere tonight, ya think?"

"The fuck I know!" snapped his companion. "Be happy this place isn't compromised. 'Bout time we got this sorted so we can meet often and such."

They trudged up the muddy path and passed through the rectangular entrance of the tower finding cover from the rain. Inside was quite stuffy from humidity and mildew seizing the stone work. Patches of green sprouted from varying corner rocks to reach out and over take its neighbors and old piles of leaves and grass were scattered about on the ground form old nests.

The surlier of the two stopped by a particular patch of wall that looked no special than the rest. He raised a hand and pressed his damp fingers against the cold surface.

" _Bluebottle!"_

The stone grated along the ones it surrounded as it pushed inwards, stopping halfway. Nothing else happened of note until the two wizards passed through the wall with ease, the barrier no longer blocked by magic. The two appeared on the other side in a room much like the space they had left - except it was far larger to accommodate at least a dozen people. A fire crackled and popped, giving the dank, darkened room, a comforting feeling and warming their chilled bones. Two torches flanked the only other doorway here that led to a short hallway and adjoining room.

In the middle of the room was a dining table, the surface rough with grooves and knots from the tree it was created from, with a bench on either side of it. Other wizards and witches milled about the room, conversing with one another. They appeared just as disheveled and bone weary as the two that just arrived.

As the room was cramped, the two wizards shuffled between the others and took a seat at the table. The timid one took the pitcher of water and shakily poured for them.

"Oh come off it." His companion scolded, snatching the tin cup from him. "Ya acting like a nutter. We're fine. Aurors can't find their way to their own arse nowadays."

"I know, Cox," he said reluctantly, not at all agreeing as he looked at the wall that they passed through as if the Aurors were about to burst through at any moment. "Just … we almost got caught back in Ormskirk when that fucking weasel Auror showed up with his friends!" He clutched at his sleeve jacket, nervously rocking on the bench as he remembered. "We're lucky to escape!"

"Aye, I know, I know, Dodger," Cox said, placating him. "We're lucky we didn't get caugh - like Miggs and Drake. But that doesn't matter now, eh? We're so close to getting things righted. Get revenge on those fuckers!" He grinned from ear to ear before giving his friend a serious once over. "Sides. Ya know it's this or Azkaban. And fuck that I say!"

There were voices that chimed in, murmuring with agreement, but one cut through the din of the chatter with a commanding presence and small applause. The wizard owning that voice shifted from the shadows wearing once expensive, proud, black robes trimmed with an intricate design of silver and gold, long dulled with wear and weather. Never would Antonin Dolohov, a wizard of high status, have frayed sleeves and speckled patches throughout his clothing if the Dark Lord had won. His dark hair had grown past his shoulders over the years giving more prominence to his long face that still exhibited the same light stubble.

"And quite right you are in that," he said with dark eyes that offered something that hadn't been there in a long time. Not since Voldemort was at the height of his power during the second war. _Hope._ "We've haven't skirted capture all these years for nothing."

He came to a stop at the head of the table, angling forward with palms on the knobby surface to address everyone. "I assure you it hasn't been in vain. And it's why I called you all here tonight."

He smiled viciously, eyes filled with promise.

"Things are finally in place for us to strike back at our enemies."

* * *

"Are you really sure about this, Mother?"

Draco was hovering in Narcissa's study and watched her methodically pack up her belongings with simple flicks and waves of her wand. Scrolls rolled together, sealed ink boxes stacked gently against volumes of academic and personal books hovering through the air to be packed neatly in the slate trunk.

She regarded her only child with motherly affection, being quite patient with Draco despite his endless probing! "Quite sure, sweet one."

With a careful eye, she sorted through bottles and drawers of a dark mahogany apothecary box, noting what ingredients had to be replenished when she arrived at Hogwarts as Draco continued to fuss. A scroll hovered midair with a quill hastily scribbling down what was needed when Narcissa recited which ingredients were low.

"And you're really happy about the taking the position?"

"Hm …" She plucked a vial and scrutinized it, clearly ignoring him. "Definitely need more rat spleen."

The quill scrawled across the parchment adding that to the list.

"Mother?" he pushed.

"No matter how many times you ask, or how you rephrase the question, the answer will always be the same." She set the vial back down with finality. "I'm quite delighted to be the new Potions professor at Hogwarts. This is the perfect opportunity to make use of my skills. To be a mentor for the children of our house, Draco. This is an honor."

Her eyes brightened as she tapped the apothecary box - drawers slid closed and the doors on either side swung inwards. A small click was heard when the brass lock secured the contents within. After setting down her wand, Narcissa grabbed either side of the case and carefully brought it over to the trunk herself. Her Potions mentor, Sage Wolpers, had gifted the cabinet to Narcissa on the successful completion of her mastery. It was one of the few items that she earned without using the status as a Black or the name Malfoy being attached to it.

She would treat the position of Potions Master at Hogwarts and Head of Slytherin House the same. It was all _hers._ The success and failures would be hers, and hers alone, and she quietly reveled in that fact despite Draco's concerns.

It wasn't entirely his fault. All he knew of his mother was being Lady Malfoy, the mistress of Malfoy Manor, wife to Lucius Malfoy, mother to Draco Malfoy - raised to believe that Narcissa would only amount to the successes of the family she married into. Only after the Second War did Draco realize who truly held the family together over the years. Narcissa was instrumental in brokering leniency given to Lucius by the Wizengamot after the last war, and then used her subtle influences to organize contracts through her husband that solidified the name Malfoy as the powerhouse in the wizarding world.

Yet old teachings were hard to break, even for Draco, who was unused to seeing his mother in this light.

"I'd think you'd be happy for me," she mused, shooing off Draco when he wanted to help put the case inside the trunk. "And you don't have to be worrying about me either. You should be spending more time with your wife here. You'll have the entire manor to yourselves."

She continued as she gracefully knelt beside the trunk, securing the case. "You're both newlyweds for Salazar's sake! Enjoy this time together instead of fretting over _me_. You do it _far_ too much, Draco."

He winced at the scolding tone his mother took, knowing he was guilty of hovering around her - like now. It didn't help that she was also right. Astoria had not disguised her feelings about the very same issues that Narcissa brought up. His courtship with his wife had been lovely, both falling for each other quickly. After they married and Astoria moved into the mansion, she immediately saw where Draco's mind drifted for most of the day when at home. That needed to change, and it was going to change whether he accepted it or not.

"I'm more than capable of taking care of myself. Contrary to what the public eye may believe," she added, rising to her feet and retrieving her wand. "Or my son."

She resumed packing the last of her things - smiling brightly at the framed photo of a recently taken photograph of her and Draco. Narcissa was standing beside him, hand gently clasping her son's shoulder. They started off smiling towards the camera and then looked to one another with their smiles widening in true warmth.

"You're right," he finally said with a supportive smile. "If this is what you want, then this is what you were meant to do."

He sighed and reached out for her hand, taking it with a gentle squeeze. "I've been a prat about this. Apologies, Mother."

Her irritation with her son melted away and all was right between them. It's not as if she could stay upset with him for too long. "My sweet boy." She pulled him into a hug, which Draco returned tightly. "Thank you for accepting this."

"Still not sure of that Professor Astrum though. Seems a bit dodgy for a Hufflepuff," he naturally ribbed since Draco was still baffled that his mother had ever been friends with one.

She shoved him away playfully, her tone one of scolding despite the smile Narcissa was trying to fight. It didn't help Draco was laughing! "Had to ruin the moment! Didn't you?"

* * *

The school year was to start in two days. Returning students would be filling the halls as the first years would take the boats across Black Lake to the castle - all full of excitement, trepidation, and awe in seeing the castle for the first time. Professor Hermione Granger would greet them outside the Great Hall and lead them in procession towards the awaiting Sorting Hat - a tradition, and great honor, passed down to her from McGonagall.

For now, the castle buzzed with last minute preparations. House Elves were busy in the kitchens preparing for tomorrow's feast, teachers were making sure their classrooms were immaculate, and even the portraits were making wagers amongst each other as to which unfortunate dormitory Peeves would torment first.

Hermione was enjoying the atmosphere and took it all in as she walked towards the Great Hall for afternoon meal. She was always excited the day before term was about to begin and that hadn't changed as a Professor. As a student, she always checked and double checked everything in her trunk to make sure she was prepared the night before taking the Hogwarts Express to school - a fact that Ron and Harry, mostly Ron, teased her about. It was a good habit that did right by her because Hermione wasn't a certain forgetful redhead having to beg Fred and George to pick up supplies for him during a Hogsmeade trip in their second year. She had plenty of extra parchment and ink that she could have lent him, but it felt good to see Ron sweat it out for a time. As a Professor, not much had changed except there was exceptionally less teasing, basically good-natured professional ribbing, and sadly, the trips to the Burrow had stopped. Ron solidified that due to his boarish attitude after the breakup.

She hated how that turned out and missed the rest of the Weasleys. Molly still invited her to all the celebrations and Hermione politely turned each one of them down. Except for this last invitation. This weekend was Bill and Fleur's party celebrating baby number three and declining the invitation had been repeatedly postponed with last minute beginning of term plans interfering with a Hogsmeade visit to send the gift. She made note to do that tonight.

"Hey Professor 'Mione!"

The Gryffindor blinked with momentary confusion, the nickname bringing her back to the present. She turned around and grinned so brightly as she realized who said it. "Harry!"

They hugged each other in a bone crushing hug, it being far too long since the last.

"Oh, it's so good to see you!" she exclaimed before gently pushing him out at arm's length to give him a proper look.

Harry's unkempt brown mop was overdue for a haircut and behind his spectacles were the beginnings of bags under his eyes. She frowned. "You're here on Ministry business?"

"Can't put anything past you," he confirmed with a tight smile. "Though it's not bad. I swear."

She regarded him shrewdly before chastising him. "You're a bad liar, Harry. You look like absolute rubbish."

He shook his head in partial defeat. "No, really. It's not that bad."

Hermione eyes threatened to probe further, still unconvinced by that explanation. "Geesh 'Mione. You're worse than Ginny with the interrogating eyes."

"Then tell me what's wrong," she prompted, linking their arms together as they walked.

"Same problem as always." His voice held something that Hermione had not heard in recent memory. Resignation. "We get _so close_ in finding the last of the Death Eaters. So _close_ … but they're so just damn crafty. Even now. It's _frustrating._ "

It was five years after the defeat of Voldemort, and the Aurors were still no closer in capturing the few left in hiding. Lupin's murderer was still free, and that truth was slowly eating away at Harry. Hermione just let her best friend vent, knowing there was nothing she could say that would help him. Rambling off empty, placating words certainly wouldn't do.

"I'm sorry." She meant it, squeezing his arm.

"Yeah, me too," he agreed and sighed heavily, regrouping his thoughts and changed the subject. "So, yeah. Just need a word with Professor Astrum 'bout a small matter. Why I'm really here. Was also hoping we'd run into each other. Otherwise, I was gonna hunt you down after."

"Well, aren't you sweet," she said with a disarming smile that made Harry believe he was in the clear. He was wrong. "Still, not sure why my best friend doesn't come to see me first when he needs help though. Just because I'm not at the Ministry anymore, doesn't mean I can't," she admonished with just enough force to make him flinch.

"It's not like that at all," Harry defended. "Astrum's been helping the Ministry with identifying dark artifacts in her spare time. As a favor to Kingsley."

Professor Astrum was just Nikole Astrum during the Second Wizarding War and a member of the Order of Phoenix. Her helping an old friend, and the current the Minister for Magic, didn't surprise Hermione in the least. "Fair enough. But that doesn't explain why you need to deliver a message in person to her. Why not just send an owl?"

"Because the Ministry isn't going to just send dark objects by owl, 'Mione. That wouldn't be very smart now, would it?" he said matter of factly, eyebrows raising well into his messy bangs.

"You have it with you?" she said with far too much excitement. "Could I ta-"

"No," he quickly answered and chuckled. "No, you can't. But… if Astrum's unable to crack it, I'll see what I can do to loop you in. Deal?"

"Deal!" Her excitement slowly veered into a hopeful look, eyes trying not to be too desperate. "Also … since you're here. Perhaps I could ask a favor?"

"Course. Anything," he said without hesitation.

"I've got a present for Bill and Fleur. Mind bringing it with you to the party?"

Harry could not hide his look of disappointment. "I thought you were actually coming this time. Molly too since you didn't owl back right away. We were … _hopeful_."

"Damn." Hermione muttered, feeling terrible. She stopped them just before the Great Hall, keeping enough distance for privacy as other professors were filtering in for lunch. "I'm _really_ sorry, Harry. I was going to owl her tonight that I wasn't going to come. I just got distracted with work here."

"We miss you," he said with a sad smile that deepened the frown on Hermione's face. "We understand it, you know. So, don't fret on it. Just … not the same without you at the Burrow. It's been almost -"

" _Three years_ ," she finished quickly. "I _know_." Hermione dropped her arm from Harry's to run fingers through her brown mane, clearly agitated. "I want things to go back the way things were. I really do. Just …"

She trailed off, unsure of what to say because what was there to say that Harry didn't know? Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, two members of the infamous Golden Trio, heroes of the Second Wizarding War, had fallen in love. What a romantic turn of events that should have ended with happiness. The news of their engagement had made the front page of _The Daily Prophet_ and the wizarding world eagerly waited for one of the biggest weddings of the century - as Rita Skeeter had written.

There was no happy ending to the story.

Harry silently stepped towards Hermione for a hug, one she desperately returned. "He still writes me you know," she admitted quietly. "Not all the time, like _before_. Just … occasionally."

Harry crinkled his nose, working his jaw. "He's a fucking idiot." He paused, unsure of what to do with that information. "Want me to talk to him again?"

"He doesn't even listen to his own mother!" She pulled back and laughed grimly. "What in Godric's name can you do now that hasn't worked before?"

"Despite him being a complete arse in all of this, he's still my best mate. Maybe I can get through that thick skull of his to finally back off and move on. We were all friends first and he needs a good reminder of that. And to be honest?" he leaned forward and squeezed her hands. "As much as it might not be possible now, I hope for a time we can all be together again properly. Keep things in the past where they belong and be a family. May not be the family that we all thought, but … maybe it can be a good one again."

Hermione liked the sentiment and wanted that too. She fought a small smile at Harry's optimism. She understood where it was coming from and why Harry wanted to see the people he considered his brother and sister on speaking terms again - even years later - and the Weasleys were a second family to her too.

"Alright." She freed a hand and held it up in caution. "I'll let you have a go with this. I'm reluctant to do so considering it all, but … what you said? It really does sound nice. In _theory_ though. It all depends on Ron's willingness to behave and be respectful. If he can't? Then I just can't be around him at all."

"I get it, "Mione. Really. And I wouldn't force you to either. We'll take it one day at a time." He pecked her cheek with promise. "Now I hate to do this, but I'm late. Supposed to see Astrum already. You're okay if I go, right?"

"Yes, for heaven's sake I am!" She asserted and brown eyes grew wide with guilt. "And you let me sidetrack you with my mess! Harry you should've stopped me!"

"Never. Always have time for you," he said, slowly backing away. "We'll continue our chat after my meeting. Get your gift too, alright?"

"Yes, yes. Now _go!_ " she ordered. "Before it gets ever later!"

Harry couldn't help laughing as he started to head off at a brisk pace. "Yes, Ma'am!"

She grinned ear to ear watching him, feeling quite content after the charged conversation they had. Hermione didn't want to get her hopes at all, but Harry had a way of making her believe that some positive resolution may come from this.

"Oh, Professor Granger! What excellent timing in finding you here!" The excited voice belonged to Horace and it couldn't be contained.

Hermione turned her head to see him and the smile that Harry had a hand in making disappeared when eyes fell upon the woman that was accompanying Horace. His companion was taller than Horace, wearing dark blue robes trimmed with white that were clearly custom made to fit her slender frame. Perfectly straight blonde hair was worn down and cascaded past her shoulders, framing her face that accentuated high cheekbones. Blue eyes immediately sought out the brown ones staring her down in true Gryffindor pride. The Transfiguration professor was not hiding her mistrust of the new Potions teacher.

"You can accompany Ms. Black and I," he started, giving Hermione a gleeful squint and missed her look of dread. "Help welcome her to Hogwarts over lunch."

Narcissa inclined her head, not deterred by the bristling lion before her. Hermione's reaction was natural and warranted with their history. Still, she wouldn't back down from those piercing eyes, but she would let the young teacher decide if she wanted to interact, choosing to remain quiet and let Hermione answer first.

"Of course," the brunette replied with a forced, but polite, smile, believing it better to get her initial meeting with Black as teachers over with. "Welcome, _again_ , to Hogwarts, Professor Black."

The biting tone was not overlooked by Narcissa. She knew precisely what Granger meant by that because the last time the blonde was here was in battle.

"Thank you, Professor Granger. I'm looking forward to this opportunity," she said undeterred. "Perhaps you can share how your first year went as a teacher and Head of House? The way Horace talks about it, I shouldn't have any troubles. But… it's been a few years" she teased sweetly, making Horace chuckle. "I think his perception is a bit colored."

"Possibly," Hermione agreed with a guarded smile. Horace was eager to retire and may be talking up how easy the position would be, showering her with the same platitudes he liked to do with the powerful and influential. "I suppose we can chat about it a little."

"Splendid!" Horace clasped his hands together and ushered them forward, oblivious that two of his favorite students were in eying each other in silent conflict.


End file.
